


Am I the Kind of Human wreckage that you Love?

by GerardsPlant



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: <33, Alcohol, Awww Ray and Bob, Bert is a bitch, Blood, Depression, M/M, Self Harm, Sharpeners, Songs, Super Cute Punk Boys, Vampires, lyrics, suicide references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GerardsPlant/pseuds/GerardsPlant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gerard witnesses 9/11, he falls into a deep pit of depression and Alcohol. On the day of 9/11, he finds Frank lying at the side of the path... This Frankie has a certain lust for blood</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PROLOUGE

 

AM I THE KIND OF HUMAN WRECKAGE THAT YOU LOVE?

PROLOUGE.

I'm all alone. The darkness is caving in on me, any minute he'll come. The light is quickly fading, barely managing to filter in through the filthy window. This is when he comes for me. Every night, after the darkness. My eyes dart about, and I'm almost begging for the light to stay. In attempt to comfort myself, I wrap my arms around my knees and burrow my head into rough fabric of my jeans. Rocking myself softly, I try to ignore the panicked whispers all around me.  I want to tell them to shut up, but I don't dare open my mouth.

He's coming. He's coming. He's coming.

That's the only thing I can think. It's what they keep telling me. It runs though my head, a never ending loop. I don't want him to come, I just want him to leave me alone. All I want is to be left alone. I don't want anybody, all I want is for the light to stay.

 

But it's gone. I bite my lip. My breathing is coming in sharp, shaky breaths. He says it's not good when that happens. I need to be calm. Deep breaths. That's what he tells me, but I can't trust him! He's lied to me before, he always lies. I shouldn't do as he says. He tells me that he's only trying to help me, but all he does is hurt me. That's what he's going to do when he gets here, hurt me.

 

I'm sick of being hurt. It's all he does, yet he says he cares about me. He tells me that I need him, and that he needs me. We've only got each other. I don't need him though. I wish he would understand that, but he never listens to me. Never. I'm nothing to him. He doesn't really care. Nobody does, why would they?

 

I hear footsteps, and instantly, I cower away. I try pushing myself further into the tiny corner. Maybe it won't be him. Maybe she'll come before him. Sometimes she does. She never stays long, but she makes it more bearable for when he get's here. I lift my head slowly, unsure of what to expect. I smile when I see her.

 

"He won't be long," she tells me, a look of worry on her face. Her eyes are darker today. Sometimes they do that, they change colors. So do  his. She smooths out her black jacket, and picks at one of the white strips on the front. Looking down, she purses her lips. "I'm not going to be able to see you for much longer,"

 

"You can never stay for long..." I mutter, slightly disappointed. Her body stiffens up, and she shakes her head.

 

"No, I mean, this might be the last time I can come see you," there is a look of guilt in her black orbs. My heart sinks, but I'm too tired to react with anything that involves major body movement.

 

"But, you can't," I tell her. "Please, don't leave me. Not with him, I can't..." I bite my lip, knowing if I keep talking, I'll end up crying. I don't want to look weak. It's been a while since I've cried... I can't remember the last time I did.

 

"You won't be alone, somebody else will come," she smiles softly, and pushes a long stand of blonde hair from her face. I shake my head.

 

"I don't want somebody else, what if they are like him?" my voice cracks slightly toward the end of the sentence. She looks at me with pity in her eyes.

 

"He won't be. He's a nice kid, I've been watching him. You'll like him, I promise," the room grows slightly dark and she takes a step backwards. "He's going to help you, more than I ever could,"

 

"I don't want help," I grunt stubbornly, glaring at her.

 

"No, you don't want it. But, you need it,"

 

I'm about to open my mouth, ready for an argument, when she dissapears. The darkness engulfes her, putting her out like a flame. Was that... the last time I would ever see her? I shake my head. It couldn't have been. She wouldn't leave me, she can't. I need her.

 

The door opens. He's here.

 


	2. SHUT UP AND PLAY (CHAPTER 2)

CHAPTER 1. SHUT UP AND PLAY

"Dude! For fu- I seriously? No, wait.. wait! Fuck, gimme a chance! Shit, no, no, no!" Ray finally gives in, throwing the game cube controller at the wall. The wire catches it just before it collides, and it falls to the ground, landing on a pillow.

"Well, I win. You know what that means," I grin sloppily at him, leaning back against my old beat up couch. His face drops.

"No,"

"Yes, c'mon, you promised," my grin widens at the horror in his eyes. "We made a deal. I told you I would kick your ass,"

"But, Gee..." he tries giving me his best puppy dog eyes, and even uses my nickname. Not gonna work. Especially when you use that name, Toro. I thought you knew me better than this...

"Nope. A deal is a deal, so say it. Say it now," I persist.

He squirms, clearly uncomfortable. I find myself enjoying seeing him in pain like this. Serves him right. Nobody beats the master, not even Ray Toro. It takes a minute for him to sum up the courage to look me in the eye again.

"I am your bitch," he spits, glaring at me. 

"Go on..." I nod in agreement.

"And I want you to make me moan, Master Gerard please fuck me," his voice is dull and bland, not a speck of emotion in it.

"Good Ray, good boy," I smile and reach forward to pet his hair as if he were a five year old. Except no five year old could ever have hair as epic as Ray's.

"I hate you," he says, letting me play with his hair. 

"I know," I say in a happy tone, and scoot closer toward him. He slouches backwards, slurping at his beer. I sit up beside him, and plant my hands into his fro. It's soft and fluffy, and feels incredibly deep. Delving in further and exploring the darkest reaches of the bundle of fuzz, I manage to dig my way to his head. "Aha!" I smile triumphantly. "I found it!"

"Found what? He twists around, pulling me with him. Glancing up at me, he gives me a look of pure concern as if he thinks I'm crazy.

"Your head. It was hiding under all this hair," the look of pure concern on his face turns into a look of amusment. "You're a crazy asshole, and you seriously need help,"

I shrug. "Maybe, maybe I do," and then I go back to playing with his hair.

Eventually I end up making some cute plaits out of his crazy locks, and I admire my creation as I sit back to get a good look at my master piece. 

"Gerard, look," 

"Hm?" I blink, then look at the screen. "What is it?"

I don't know why I asked, as it was pretty obvious. On the television, a news reporter sits at a desk, and an image of a boy, around seventeen is beside her. Underneath the image, it says 'MISSING'. I purse my lips. This hasn't been on the news for a while now. Nobody knows where this kid is, he went missing years ago. Why are they putting it back up? I guess they have just found a lead or something. Or maybe they just found his dead body. That's how most kidnapping/disappearences are solved these days.

"It's that kid, the one who went missing six or seven years ago. Don't you remember? He lived just down the street from your parent's house," 

"Yeah, I remember now. What's happened?" I stop messing with his hair, and sink back into the couch. I reach for another beer and crack it open. 

Ray doesn't say anthing. So I instead pay attention to the news reporter. "-since the boy was last seen. But, uncomfirmed sources have informed the police department of an annonymous tip that has lead Detective Lindsey Ballato to believe that despite the evidence of Iero's death, the boy may be still in fact, alive. Details of the case haven't been released yet," the reporter does that thing where she gathers all of her papers and neatens them out, tapping them against the table. I look back to Ray.

"Poor kid, I hope they find him," he mutters, shaking his fro. "More video games?" he asks me before I get a chance to input on the missing kid. I smile, but it feels forced as I nod.

"Yeah, sure. Just gonna get another coffee, I'm not in the mood for this crap," I gesture to the cheap can of lager I had put on the table. "You want one?"

"No, your cheap coffee is even worse than this cheap booze," he sticks his tounge out at me as if he were a child. I roll my eyes, knowing that the crap that just came out of his mouth is bullshit. I only buy the best coffee.

"You should be glad I offered, it's not often that somebody like you would get the privlage of drinking Way brewed coffee," 

"Dude, you buy your coffee. You don't even know how to 'brew' it. Besides, I thought you brew tea, not coffee," he frowns, stopping to ponder the mystery. I chuckle at him then quietly slip out of the room. Once I'm in the kitchen, I start to do what I first set out to do, but something catches my eye and I stop. I glance behind myself, just to check that Ray hasn't snuck up on me. No one is there. My gaze returns to what caught my eye. I know I shouldn't. Mikey made me promise that I wouldn't, and I'm sure Ray wouldn't be happy with me either if I do it. I chew my bottom lip, and shuffle toward the small plastic container I had left out from last week before Mikey found out. I had meant to bin them, but I'd completly forgotten about their existance. Picking it up, I inspect the insides. There are about ten left, at a guess. I can just have one, then no more. One isn't going to do much more than give me a small buzz. It's not like it will kill me.

I shrug, and pop it open. Nobody is here still, so I'm safe. I carefully tip it upside down, trying to get just one out, but I end up with two. I don't bother putting one back, and I quickly throw them in my mouth before I stash the rest of them somewhere I know Mikey will never find them. I finish making coffee, and then go back into the living room to see a pissed off looking Ray.

"Who shoved a stick up your ass?" I ask, sitting down and putting my coffee on the stained table.

"Huh, wha...?" he blinks, then looks at me, gormlessly. I roll my eyes.

"Fucking idiot, never mind," I grumble, punching him in the fro. Something dangerous stirs in his eyes, as if he's about to tackle me to the ground and feast on my flesh, but he doesn't, because somebody knocks at the door. I will have to thank that person at some point. They may have just saved my life.

"I'll get it!" I blurt out instantly, and jump to my feet with a small, not needed giggle. I dart over to the door, and pull it open. Looks like bean pole boy is here. I swear he's grown even taller since I last saw him. He towers over me now, it's quite intimidating. I remember when he was shorter than me. I wish it was still like that. He's done something different with his hair that makes me want to giggle some more, but I don't because that would be mean. He usually gells it backwards with some special moose crap to make it look darker, but today it's straightened into sort of like a mohawk. 

"I was wondering when you would finally get your ass over here," I say, gesturing for him to come in. I'm glad that I erased the evidence of my 'drug use'. He would freak out if he saw it. Not that they are really 'drugs', drugs. It is legit medication.

"I was a little busy," He says, looking shady. He's got his hands behind his back, and I can't tell what, but he's holding something behind his back I think.

"Doing what?" I ask, frowning. I wanted to add a dirty comment about him and Alicia there, but I didn't. Instead, Ray does.

"He's been having violent, passionate sex with his girlfriend," I really didn't expect to hear that come form Princess Fro Fro's mouth.

"N-No I wasn't!" Mikey instantly puts his defensive barriers up, turning a deep shade of red. "I was out shopping,"

"Were you shopping for a new haircut by any chance?" I raise an eyebrow up at him. he turns an even darker shade of red. It's kind of more a purple actually.

"No! I uh, cut it myself..." he admits. "I was actually out at the music store,"

Instantly, Ray's fro bob's up and he looks at Mikey. Looks like somebody is interested. I'm fairly curious too, and I gesture for him to go on.

"Well, you see, I've been thinking a lot lately. I might try play bass again. I was pretty crappy at it before, but I wanna give it another shot. Plus, I've come up with a killer band name, so I need to start a band and use it," he explains in a rushed tone. "So, I kinda maybe used up all of my money buying this," he whips out a brand new, very, very, very expensive looking bass guitar from behind his back. It's certainly nice, and if you can play well, then it's definatly worth it. It's a deep red, resembling it's owners face right this minute, but it looks too perfect in a way. I can just imagine Mikey trying to play it, but being too scared of scratching it's flawless glossy paint job. I was like that with my guitar, but after a while, I smashed the fuck out of it and made a right mess of it's perfect body. Afterwards, it looked pretty kickass, and it still works which was a miracle.

"Holy fuck..." Ray flops off the couch then wiggles over to Mikey to admire his bass. "It's... do you know what you're holding...?" he looks up at my brother, a gleaming sparkle in his eyes.

"Um, well it-"

"Shh.... don't... don't..." Ray takes the bass in his arms, sort of hugging it. Weirdo. I leave them to have fun with their new toy, and I go into the kitchen. Time to make more coffee. Mikey might say that he comes to my new apartment so he can see me, but really I know he comes for the coffee because Alicia won't let him buy a decent coffee machine.

I have some time to think. So my little brother wants to start a rock band, huh? It's cute. He can play quite well after all, do I don't see why not. He's not brilliant, but he was only playing for about six months before he gave it up, and he was pretty good back then. I can't remember what happened to his old bass. I think it got destroyed in an argument he had with his girlfriend, but I'm not sure. Maybe him and Ray can start their own band together. Ray is one mother fucking good guitarist. He's proberbly the best I know to be honest. I don't think he's busy with any other bands right now. He was playing drums at one point with some other guys, but he ditched the drums a while ago.

With Mikey becoming a freshly inspired musician, of course I feel the familiar temptation to go dig out my old guitar, but it's useless. I can't play. I suck at it. I'll just draw instead later. I just need to get the whole creative stream out of my system. Besides, I have some stuff I need to get finished for work.

When I go back in, somehow an amp has appeared out of thin air, and Ray seems to be giving Mikey lessons. I stop and watch them from the doorway for a moment. Ray is sat on one of the wooden armless chairs, and has Mikey propped up on his lap. He has his ams wrapped around him so he can show Mikey where to put his fingers on the fret board by moving his hands around with his.

"No, no, you don't do it like that, right. Watch for a minute, I'll show you," Ray flicks Mikey's left hand away from the bass and proceeds to take over the fret board. He pushes his fingers down on a few different strings to form some complicated chord that I would never stand a chance of learning. "Strum now," he orders. The sandy blonde instantly complies, and firmly runs his pick over the strings. A strange, but enchanting note rings out from the speakers. 

"Ah... I get it now. Can I have a go?" 

"No. I'm on it, I just wanna try something," Ray hogs the bass, clearly adopting it as his own, whereas Mikey sits there groaning, waiting to actually get a go. I shake my head at them, and bring the coffee through. Mikey looks up at me mouthing 'HELP ME FOR FUCK'S SAKE' with what almost looks like tears in his eyes. I chuckle at my little brother's pain.

"Mikes..." I say, raising my voice sightly over the elaborate bass line that Ray is currently performing. "How much was the bass exactly?" I've been slightly worried about asking this question. It does look VERY expensive, and he looked pretty guilty when he told us.

"Why?" he asks, getting defensive again. I frown.

"Because you haven't told Alicia you've bought it yet, have you?" I read his mind using the super powers I wish I had. He gulps.

"No, I haven't..."

"So, how much?"

"I... uh..."

"It was three thousand and seventy dollars," Ray suddenly informs us, killing the bass by pulling the jack out.

"How the fuck did you know?" Mikey snaps, jumping off his lap.

"I've seen it before," Ray starts to explain, but I'm about to cut him off.

"Three thousaund dollars?" I explaim, glaring at my brother.

"And seventy," Ray adds, being the asshole he is.

"Well, yeah. I mean... oh, Gee, I just had too! Look at her, she's so beautiful!" he glances down to 'her' and gazes at it lovingly.

"Do you even have three thousand dollars?" I take a step closer toward him, and although he's towering over me right now, I feel pretty intimidating. Good. He should be crapping his pants. Not because of me though, but becuase of Alicia. She is going to kill him.

"No, not any more I suppose," he gives me a stupid smile trying to lighten the situation. He notices that I'm not impressed. "Look, Gee," he uses my nickname. Only he can get away with that. "It's gonna pay off, I mean, what if I can actually get in a good band? What if we actually make it?" 

I bite my lip. I want to tell him the truth, that making a band get big is hard work, that there is a good chance he's going nowhere, but I don't wanna make him feel like shit. Instead, I just shrug it off. "Well, go and ask your girlfriend that. She's the one you've gotta be scared of,"

"Yeah, Alicia scares me. No disrespect there dude, your girl is awesome and all, but she can be really terrifying," Ray admits. I fall back into the couch, and let it's overly softness suck me in. I rub my eyes with a loud yawn. I only just realize how tired I am.

"You guys wanna crash? It's getting late and I want sleep so you can either fuck off or stay here and be quiet," I leave the question to hang in the air for a moment. Mikey is the first to answer me.

"I'm not staying here, my bed at home is too comfy to abandon," he get's up and stretches. 

"You just wanna have some awesome sex with Alicia..." Ray teases him with a smirk. Mikey scowls before turning to leave.

"You're forgetting something," I state. He turns to face me and smiles sheeplishly.

"Yeah, if you don't mind I'm gonna leave it here for now," he rubs the back of his head. I sigh, and they both leave after another ten minutes. I decide to get some long overdue art work finished, so I collect my things, and lay some paper out on the coffee table, being careful not to get it wet from any of the spills. I frown at the page, chewing the end of my pencil. I can't think of very much to draw. I have plenty of things that the Cartoon Network has set me to do, but none of it interests me. I rub my temples and close my eyes, waiting for inspiration to hit me.

I hum quietly to myself. It's a tune I don't recognise, but it interests me so I carry on. I open my eyes, and look back at the page. Artist's block. It's definately the one thing I hate more than anything. Especially when I actually have work to get though, but how am I supposed to draw if I have nothing to inspire me? How do I meet deadlines if that's the case? My boss doesn't understand this, I don't think.

"Hand in mine, into your icy blues..." I murmer to myself, fixing it in with the tune I have stuck in my head. "And then I'd say to you, we could take to the highway..." I feel as if more words should follow on, but I go silent. I'm not in a singing mood, or a creative mood whatsoever. Maybe I should just go to sleep. Maybe I'll get lucky and wake up really inspired by some crazy dream.

I yawn again. I lie down and let my eyes fall shut. I expect sleep to take me away instantly, but it doesn't. Instead, the thought of the missing kid pops up into my head. I wonder where he is... if he's actually still alive. Ray said that he used to live near my parent's house, back before I moved out, but I don't remember him. I try to recall his name, but I can't. I only heard his second name on that news report. Iero, I think. It doesn't ring a bell. Maybe Ray was wrong, maybe the kid isn't even from New Jersey. I have no idea. I never got out much, and still don't, so I never really paid much attention to the neighbourhood kids. He didn't go to my school though, that's for sure. I would have known him if that was the case.

I think it would be kind of interesting to be kidnapped. Not that I want to be abducted by some strange old man or anything, I just imagine it to be a pretty awesome experience.

Still not being able to sleep, I roll myself a cig. Mikey stole my last packet, so I'm having to live off baki until I can be bothered to go out and buy some more. That will proberbly be a while yet. It's not often I put up with going outside. Scramblng around the couch, I try to find a lighter. I know there is one here somewhere, I saw it yesterday. I check under the cusions, but with there is no sign of it anywhere. With a sigh, I give up. I guess this means I'll have to use my energy to actually get up and fetch the matches from the cupboard.

The cupboard is on the far side of the room, so I heave myself off the couch and stumble over toward it. Digging through the piles of crap I've stored inside, I find the small box. I pull it out and slide it open. Not many left. I strike one against the side of the box then spark my cig up. Instantly, I feel more relaxed from the nicotine entering my system and I let myself fall onto the couch. I pick up a random comic off the floor and open it to the first page. Batman. I've read this particular issue thousands of times, and it never ceases to dissapoint me. It's comics like this that inspired me to become a comic book writer. Yeah, hell like that worked out. Breakfast Monkey wasn't exactly a huge hit either. Maybe Mom is right. I will end up just wasting my life away in this tiny apartment, slaving away and drawing pictures for the Cartoon Network.

At least Mikey has hope. That's proberly one thing I lack. I've given up on all the different careers I've wanted to take up. Hopefully, Mikey will have a break through. Or Ray, I know how much the two of them are into music. I guess I am too, but my musical talent is equal to a chipmunk's. Just to clarify, that means I'm not very good. My life is pretty much useless.

Once I've finished chain smoking about seven cigarettes, I feel sick and my eyes feel heavy. I roll over and close them, trying not to think of anything as I let myself go to sleep. Eventually, I do drift off.

Waking up the next morning isn't a very nice experience. I had forgotten to close the curtains, so I end up melting in the relentless sunlight that streams in through the huge window. Grumbling to myself, I roll over, forgetting that I'm not in my bed and fall onto the ground. "Fuck..." I groan, wincing. Great start to the day so far, Gerard, just mother fucking great. Genius kid strikes again.

Already pissed off at my own clumsyness, I go into the bathroom, hoping to compose myself. When I decide to look in the mirror, I wish I hadn't. I look disgraceful. Well, when don't I? Although, this is worse. It's a surprise that Mikey and Ray would want to come near a mess like the one I'm staring at now. When was the last time I washed my hair? It hangs low, looking longer than it usually does. It's stringy and uncomfortable, and almost looks wet. I pull a face at myself in disgust. "Ugh... no wonder you couldn't get a fucking prom date," I mumble to myself before clambering into the shower. I should stop talking to myself, It's not normal.

The shower is hot. Too hot, but I barely come in here so I have no idea how the fuck to make it colder. I don't even dare messing around with any of the many differnt knobs and buttons, so I let it scold my skin painfully as I lather myself in soap. It takes a lot of scrubbing to work through the dirt that has gathered on my skin. Wow, I really am one gross fuck up. I'm grimacing the whole way throught the cleaning progress, and then when I shampoo my hair, I manage to get a huge dollop of it in my eyes. Cursing violently, I reach out blindly trying to find a towel.

I've just decided I don't like showers.

Going back into the living room to flop out and be lazy on the couch, I grap some painkillers. I seem to have developed a nasty headache. The kind that feels like someone is stabbing you in the brain just behind your eye. Not nice. Knowing my luck, I proberbly managed to get it somehow from being in that damned shower. Can you get headaches from showers? I have no idea. The small box han't been opened yet, so I try to figure out how to get to it's contents. Eventually, I manage to swallow one and wash it down with a mouthfull of coffee.

The sky has darkened since I woke up. The contrast is much different from the bright chirpy sunlight that was flooding through before. Gray storm clouds fill the whole view out of the window, and rain is just beginning to pour. I smile. This weather is much more favourable to that of earlier this morning's. I keep watching out of the window as I get comfortable on the couch and grab a bag of chips. The large oak tree just outside the building is swinging slightly, it's branches flailing in the strong wind. I barely take note of it, but somewhere amongst the green, I see what looks like a streak of white floating in the wind.


	3. COUNTING YOUR FACE AMONG THE LIVING (CHAPTER 3)

CHAPTER 2. COUNTING YOUR FACE AMONG THE LIVING

I refuse to look up as he stands infront of me. I'm not sure how long he has been stood there now, but I do know that he will stand there for hours, waiting to get a reaction out of me.

"I only hurt you because I need you. Don't worry, it won't take long, just a few minutes. Then it will be all over," he murmers. He flits down and crouches beside me. I flinch away as he touches my shoulder. I can feel his breath slicing across my throat, ice cold. I shiver, squeezing my eyes shut. Please make him stop, please make him stop! I want to plead this out loud, beg for him to get off me, but I know he won't. He doesn't really care about me. He hates me. Why else would he do this?

When I jerk my head away from him, he reacts instantly, snapping his hand out and cupping my face. He makes me look at him, and I try to avoid staring into his cold silver eyes. "It won't take long," 

I gulp, and know that I can't resist. He has complete control over me. Grimacing, I force myself to nod. If I don't let him do it, then he'll just do it by force, and holy cow it hurts when he does that! 

"Good boy..." he purrs, patting me on the head. His hand travels downwards, and finds my wrist. Through the darkness, he runs his fingers across my scarred skin, trying to find a smooth spot. He says that using unmarked skin will make it hurt less, but it proberbly just makes it better for him in some way. Yes, I'm right there.

Lifting my arm up, he opens his mouth, ready to bite. I bite down on my lip, tensing my whole body, ready to brace myself against the pain. His fangs graze my skin, scraping across it before he breaks the surface. I feel his tongue flick across my wrist, and a small noise escapes me. I expect him to make a snide comment, like he usually does when I do that but he doesn't. Instead, I feel him crunch down into me, and I let out a sharp squeal, doing my best to hold back the screams that are building up in my throat. Eventually, the pain subsides as he withdraws his fangs and begins lapping up my blood. I wimper, tears wanting to escape, but I don't let them. I will never cry for him. He suckles the wound gently, earning more strange noises from me. I feel dirty when he's finished. I always do.

"You enjoyed that," he whispers, stroking the now quickly healing slit in my wrist. I shake my head violently, refusing to believe him. I could never enjoy that! He should see what it's like, it's not nice!

"Thank you," he tells me, like usual. I don't know why he bothers with his manners. He never says please before drinking. "Now what do you say?" his voice is sadistic and cold. I swear he only does this to make me feel even worse.

"You welcome," I spit, lifting my gaze to glare at him with the small amount of courage I can sum up. He smiles, and it does reach his eyes, but only in that icy dark way that scares me. He dissapears quickly, flitting away. I know that he will be back any minute though.

Just as I thought, five seconds later, he's stood infront of me. "Now, eat," he orders thrusting a sandwich at me. He stays for a moment, knowing that I'm proberbly about to complain. Lifting the bread up, I inspect the contents. Ham.

"No," I grunt, lifting it up to return to him.

"Well take it out. Just eat the bread, but don't blame me when you're hungry later," he folds his arms across his chest, refusing to take it from me. With a sigh, I give in. Taking the ham out, I leave it on the floor. 

"I'm thirsty," I tell him, not daring to look up and inform him though.

"Well that's tough shit. You're lucky I feed you, ungrateful little bastard," he shakes his head at me, then leaves. As soon as I'm sure he won't be back, I slink down against the wall, letting the bread fall from my grasp. I'm not hungry. I know he will yell at me later for not eating, but I dont care.

I smile slightly, feeling that small jolt of rebel coarse through me. I don't care what he says, I'll do what I want. If I don't want to eat, he'll just have to accept it. I never see him eat. So why should I? I'll only end up in the bathroom, retching it up anyway. It doesn't take long though, for the smug feeling of braveness to wear off and for the darkness to creep back in. 

I wish she would come back. I want her company. She makes me feel safe, and she knows what I do when I go a night without seeing her. I can't help it, but she doesn't understand that. My hand slips into my jeans pocket, and pulls the small silver object out. I play with it, swirling it between my fingers before I flick it open. It reminds me of a butterfly, the way it flutters in my grasp.I snap it shut, but leaving one blade pointing into the air. I chew my bottom lip before I put it in my mouth absent mindedly. 

Will he ever stop coming for me? Will he ever let me go? These are questions I ask myself on a regular basis, and everytime, I come to the same conclusion. I'm better off staying here. The world doesn't need me to make it uglier. It's already one heck of an ugly place. I'm only a burden. Sometimes, I even think that he hates me being here. He proberbly does, but he needs me to drink from. If I don't let him, he'll have to hunt. That means he will have to kill.

I take the knife from my mouth, still thinking about things like why I'm actually here. Why not somebody else? I've asked him, but he never answers me. The knife glints in the speck of silver light being casted down through the window. I poise the blade above the already broken skin of my wrist. It takes me a few minutes, but I drop it to the floor. I can't. I need to stay strong for her. She said someone would be coming. I just have to trust her, but what if I don't want somebody else? I know she cares about me, and that is why she is helping me, but sometimes I wish he would just drain me dry. He nearly has, several times. That was a long time ago though, things have changed. 

Do I want to die?

I've asked this question countless times. It wouldn't take more than a few minutes. To run this blade across my throat. He would walk in on my bleeding out body, and without a doubt he would greedily drop to his knees and lap up every last drop. Or I could drag the knife through my wrist. I'm not sure which would be quicker, but sometimes, both can be very tempting. I don't though. Something is stopping me. It was her, I'm sure of it, but now she's gone. Does that mean I can end all of this?

I glance down at the knife again. I can already see my blood soaking the blade.

No! I can't think like this! I won't, I won't, I won't! I repeat the mantra, saying it out loud. My voice is raspy and dry. It hurts to talk. I need to drink something. 

Crawling forward, I reach out for the bed. Pulling myself up, I manage to stand. I look over at the door. I'm sure it's locked, but I stumble over toward it anyway. Clumsily, I fumble at the handle, but it becomes clear I won't be leaving any time soon. I've tried escaping plenty of times in the past. I haven't tried in a long time though. Maybe for about three years, but my memory becomes fuzzy after being kept in a dark hole for so long. I can't even remember how long I've been held here for. Who cares? I'm not going to be leaving. I'm stuck here. Stuck here until the day he decides to just drink me dry and dispose of my drained corpse in some ditch or a lake.

I fall to the ground, trembling. I feel angry, but I'm not sure why. The need to destroy suddenly hits me, and I pound my fist into the dirty floor. I hate him. I hate him. I fucking hate him! I can't stand it any more, I want out, I want out of here. I don't care how I get this, I'm just sick of being his prisoner. Living in this room for another day, it's going to kill me. I refuse to waste my life away in here. I don't care if getting out of here means death. I'll take it gladly. Fuck her, and fuck him. I'm sick of all of this, sick of everything. Most of all though, fuck this new kid. I hate him, I never want to see him. I don't need his help. All I need is to go away.

All I want is to dissapear.


	4. NOBODY CARES IF YOU'RE LOSING YOURSELF (CHAPTER 4)

CHAPTER 3. NOBODY CARES IF YOU'RE LOSING YOURSELF

The coffee shop is as busy as ever. That's the one thing I hate about it. People. I can't stand them. I prefer my own company, and that's it, but I might as well come in before I go to the Cartoon Network. I finally managed to get some art work done, so I'm in the bustling streets of New York, and it's pissing it down outside. Another reason to come in the cafe - it's dry. Not that I dislike rain, I love it, but I can't risk my art being ruint. My life is practically on the line. This assignment has been long over due for several weeks, and I'm considered lucky to have gotten away with slacking off so much.

Squeezing past everyone around me, I make my way to the que. Of course, as I always do, I get plenty of strange looks. Being judged already am I? Of course I am. This is New York for fuck's sake. A guy wearing all black with eyeliner on isn't the most common thing you'll see in the city. I don't pay attention to thm though, I'm all too used to it. Once I arrive at the front of the que, I'm instantly recognised.

"Wanting the usual, sweetie?" the girl behind the counter who's-name-I-can-never-remember-despite-it-being-on-her-badge asks. I nod, forcing a small smile. Yawning, I wait for my order. I need something to help me keep composure, and caffiene tends to be the best thing to keep me awake. Either that, or a dreadful freezing cold shower first thing in the morning. 

I run a hand through my hair, marvelling at it's fluffyness. I'm not used to having it like this, and it keeps shocking me every time I absent mindedly play with it. I'm handed my drink, and I quickly escape the stuffy shop to catch some fresh air. Slurping at my drink, I feel it instantly begin to kick in, and I set off back to the Cartoon Network. As I walk past the twin towers, I gaze upwards, feeling incredibly dominated by them. Stumbling backwards. I almost get the feeling that they are collapsing on me. I shake my head. Of course they aren't.

I sort out my things at work then head back home, finding my old car in the parking lot I left it in. I softly pat the scrapped up silver bonnet before climbing inside and revving up the engine. The drive back to my apartment isn't a long one, and I'm walking the balcony to the place I call home in no time. Glancing at next door, I see it's still for sale. It has been for years. Maybe I should ask Ray if he want's to move in next door. It'd be pretty cool if he was just two seconds away, although I'm not sure he would want to. Rumor has it that it's haunted. I doubt it's true, but everynow and then, I do hear strange noises though the wall. Noises like, doors closing, and sometimes, although not very often, sobbing. I'm sure it's my imagintation though. Well, that's what I tell myself anyway. 

Once I'm inside, I gladly collapse onto the couch, pleased with finally sorting out my work. I sit back up, and an eerie chill ghosts my skin. Shivering, I glance around myself, slightly paranoid that I'm being watched. It feels as if there is someone sat here, their eyes boring into me. Maybe it's the ghost next door. Fuck, I'm creeping myself out. I need to stop feeding my brain with nightmare fuel. Sighing, I think about calling Ray to see if he wants to come over for the night. I don't really like the idea of sleeping on my own at the moment.

"Yo, Ray," I say once he answers his cell phone.

"Erm, yeah... what's up?" he sounds strange, as if he's hiding something.

"Wanna come over for a take-out and video games? I'm feeling crappy man, some company would be great,"

"Ah... sorry. I'm uh, kinda busy," he says, quickly turning down my offer for some free booze. I frown. Ray Toro never turns down free booze.

"Doing what exactly?" I ask him. It feels like a re-run of yesterday with Mikey.

"Just, doing stuff... anyway, I gotta go,"

"Okay well wo-" but he hangs up. Asshole.

Already bored and slightly creeped out by the ghastly, unnatural atmosphere around me, I let myself fall backwards and sigh. I could call Mikey, but I have no doubt that he'll be with Alicia right now. Fuck knows what Ray is doing, maybe he's got a girl I don't know about to attend to aswell. I think I'm the only person on this planet who is single sometimes.

Fuck, I proberbly am.

I've been told, too many times for me to count that I need to get out and meet people, that I need to socialize and get a girlfriend. It'll do you good, they say. Maybe you'll get a tan if you go out, they say. Like I'd want a tan. Ha. Fuck no.

I let my mind wander, and I close my eyes. "Hand in mine into your icy blues..." I mumble, remembering the tune I had come up with last night. Maybe I should try finishing it. I mean, it's something for me to do. I shake my head to myself though. I won't get it finished. Since when exactly did I get things done? Never.

With no motivation to do anything, I crawl onto my bed and dig out my old sketch pad. I flick though the old pages, and chew my lip as I frown at how cringe worthy some of my art used to be. Not wanting to end up going back and re-doing all of it, I find a fresh page and fumble around in my drawer for a pencil. Amazingly, I find one that isn't blunt. I wouldn't be able to sharpen it if it was, all of the sharpeners in this crummy apartment are broken.

Whatever it is that I begin sketching seems to be going nicely, even though I haven't exactly decided what it is going to be yet. Two faces, a woman and a man facing each other. It reminds me of a painting I like. I can't remember the exact details, but it had two lovers facing each other with a cloth covering their faces. It's a remarkable painting, certainly one of my favourites. My drawing seems to be following the idea of it, but without the cloth. I start on the detail of the woman. She has short, jet black hair that ends just above her jawline. Her eyes are closed, and her face is twisted up slightly, giving off the impression she is in pain. I start on the man. He also has his eyes shut. He looks upset, as if he's done something wrong. In a way, he looks guilty. When I'm finished, I sit back to admire my art. I frown.

Something is missing. 

I can't work out exactly what it is, but it looks as if it is still incomplete, waiting for me to add the crucial last few flicks of my pencil to finish it off. I shrug, not too bothered. Maybe I'll paint it later, and see if I can figure out what is wrong with it. 

After ten minutes of zoning out, I end up back in the living room. I pause, seeking out the evil presence I can feel eminatting from a mystery spot in my front room. The ominous chill scrapes my skin making me shiver. Nothing seems out of the ordinary though. It's just my crappy, painfully miniscule living room. The wallpaper is moist and damp, slowly peeling off the walls. Unmatched furniture is gathered in the middle of the small space to create some kind of sitting down area that I spend most of my time sprawled out playing video games or reading comic books. A dark gray carpet covers the floor, covered in small pieces of scattered debree that are long overdue being vacuumed up. The skirting boards are beginning to yellow, dirt gathered on the small space on top of them. Absolutly nothing out of the ordinary.

Just my disgusting apartment that no twenty three year old man should be okay with living in.

Fuck. Sometimes I wish that some demonic Satan goat would just randomly morph in front of me. It'd be cool as shit, even if it did end with my guts spilt all over the carpet.

I've been to Mikey and Alicia's house. Yes, they have a fucking house, the posh bastards. It's much cleaner than here, and I just don't understand how they can keep it that way. There are two of them living there, in one great big (okay, not so much that big as it is only one bedroomed) house and keep it in spotless condition, wheras there is only one of me in an apartment the size of a dog kennel, and I cannot keep the place under control. Personally, I blame Mikey and Ray. I've noticed, over the years, that everytime they decied to crash, the next morning it's as if a tornado has passed over the city.

My stomach grumbles, and I decide it is feeding time. I wander through to my kitchen then look in the fridge. My jaw drops. What the fuck happened to all of my food? Ray. I bet it was. I can't believe him! As if he would eat... all of it... I did say: 'oh go on old chum, help yourself' but I didn't mean he could eat everything but a ball of cabbage.

"Ray you asshole..." I grumble. He's also drank all of my beer. I swear he just trying to piss me off on purpose. He can be so nice and sensitive sometimes, and then he goes and steals all of my food. Does he not know that eating is a compulsary part of life and I need to keep myself nurished?

Looks like I'll have to go to the shop. Yay for me.

The sky has cleared up and it's all sunshine and fucking rainbows when I get there. Just before I enter, something catches my eye. It's a dog. He (I assume he is a he) is sat next to the shop, but doesn't have a collar or a lead. Frowning, I approach the small bundle of fur. He looks up at me, his eyes glinting in the sunlight. Chewing my lip, I glance around to see if his owner is anywhere near by. I don't see anyone, but decide that it is for the best to leave the dog where he is. His owner might be buying something.

The shop is near enough empty, thank fuck. I'm hungry, tired, and not in the mood for glares of disgust at the moment. I see only two people who look like potential dog owners, but both of them leave pretty quickly. If one of them doesn't take the dog, I suppose it is okay to bring him back to the apartment. Just gotta make sure Mrs H doesn't know about him. She'll kill me for bringing an animal into an 'animal free enviroment'.

There is only one other person in the shop other than myself and the clerk. He certainly doesn't look like the type to have a cute bundle of joy waiting for him outside. He's tall, and rather bulky. With a shaved head and a lip ring, he looks kinda scary. Maybe he's an ex-convict or something. Maybe he was in the military. I don't know, but there is something about him that makes me decide to go the long way round to the checkout. I pay for the food I swear to God Ray is not going anywhere near, and make my way out.

The dog is still there.

I approach him, and drop to my knees so I can stroke his soft fur. I couldn't possibly leave him out here, all on his own in this horrible blistering heat. No way. He is coming back with me. I smile at the pup, and he makes a small wincing noise, rubbing his head against my knee. Picking him up in my arms, I take him to my car and set him down carefully on the passenger seat, making sure no one is looking at me. I don't want to be thought of as a dognapper or anything. 

Once I pull up in the parking lot, I twist around in my seat to face the dog. I frown as I stare at him for a moment. Fuzzy brown hair, big eyes that can delve into the darkest corners of your soul, very small in size and floppy ears the jostle everytime he moves. He reminds me of a tiny, dog version of Ray. "Ray..." I mumble, taking the name into consideration. I better not. I think my fro friend would be kinda freaked out I named a dog I found after him. Shaking my head, I choose to leave the name debate for later. First, I have to figure out a way to smuggle him into my apartment. At least he's small.

Using his tiny frame to my advantage, I manage to squeeze him into one of the shopping bags I had brought back with me. I take off my jacket and put it on top. I sit back and decide I'm good to go. I gather my things, and get out of the car. I feel strange, sneaking a dog into my own home via a plastic shopping bag. I don't let that get me down though. Hopefully, I am giving this dog a better life, so it isn't on the streets eating whatever it is that homeless dogs eat. Like they say, a dog is for life, not for Christmas. Although, I'm not sure if that saying applies here.

I use the ninja skills I have put on my bucket list to learn, and then walk straight into my living room, and put the shopping away after thowing my jacket onto the back of the couch. When I wander back in, the dog is giving me his soul searching stare. "What's wrong?" I ask him, sparking up a cigarette. He let's out a high pitched wincing sound them trots over to the door. Scratching at it with his tiny claws, he yaps as if something has spooked him. "Yo, dog, you okay?" I step forward. Suddenly, I jerk backwards as I hear a loud pounding at the door. "Shit..." mumbling to myself, I dart to the source of the sound. I think I may have dropped my cig. The door seems to mock me as I stand by it for a minute, scared to see who is waiting for me to answer. My heart is pounding like crazy, and I can feel the adreneline surging though my veins as my hand creeps down to the handle. I pull it open.

The first thing I see is a very angry looking man. A face bright red, fuming and livid, I can almost see the steam shooting out of his ears. It's the man from the shop. "Um, hello?" I ask him awkwardly, just kinda bobbing up and down as I stare at him, pursing my lips. I think I can hear him growling as he glares at me, but it might just be the dog.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he yells, getting fairly straight to the point. Pushing me backwards, he steps into my apartment. I may have stolen his dog, but this is my personal space. I don't like it when people invade it.

I gulp, shaking my head then try to explain myself. "I uh, I..." instantly, my brain turns to mush and I have no idea what to say. "I'm really erm, s-sorry?" I blink gormlessly at him. 

This time, he does growl. "Where's my dog?" almost as if on cue, the little terror appears out of nowhere. The man scoops him up into his arms, not breaking eye contact with me for a second. "Just why would you take him? Fucking weirdo," he turns to leave, and I stand watching him, slightly... shell shocked. That was probably the most exciting thing that will ever happen in my life, and I'm sure there are other people in the world who have had worse dognapping experiences. I close the door, still confused, terrified and kinda wanting to cry - it was a little traumatic, okay?

Sinking to the floor, I spot the cigarette that I dropped. Luckily, it hasn't set my whole apartment on fire. Although, to be honest, it would be kinda cool if it did. At least I would actually have a 'near death experience' to talk about. The closest I have ever been to dying, is probably death by embarrasment. It's a real thing too, but I'm pretty sure I would be long gone if that was the case. Or maybe I'm just immortal.

I'm a human failure.

Is there even any point in me existing? It's not like I'm accomplishing anything at all. I might as well just crawl into a hole and die. All I do is make a fool of myself. What even deluded me into thinking that taking that dog was okay? I must be going losing my mind. No normal person would be stupid enough to steal some man's puppy. I guess I just have no common sense. 

So maybe I'm being just a little melodramatic, but I need a good excuse to get upset every now and then.

My fingers creep out, seeking comfort from anything, anyone, but I'm all alone. There is no one here for me. I dig my nails into the rough fibres of my carpet, and grit my teeth against the tears I can feel emerging.

"Fuck!" I cry out, smashing my fist into the ground. I'm beginning to act like a hormonal teenage girl, but I don't care. I'm pissed off, and going through my early mid life crisis.

Moments later, I hear a strange tapping noise. Eyebrows knotted together, I turn my head to glare at the door. Someone is knocking and trying to turn the door handle. I jump up, and stand confused for a good several minutes before I react. I open the door to see the dog man. "Oh yay, so you wanna humiliate me some more after I steal your dog?" I sniffle. "Because you sure are welcome to, just come in and take the piss out of everything I own," moving out of the way, I gesture for him to come in. He doesn't. instead, he just stands there and blinks at me, giving me a blank expression.

"Uh... dude," he finally manage to mumble. "Are you... okay? You sounded kinda, upset after I left," his voice is softer than before, as if he's trying to make himself sound more approachable. It just makes him sound awkward though.

"I'm fine," I grumble, folding my arms across my chest.

"A-Are you sure? I mean, I didn't wanna like, make you uh... cry or anything..." he looks down modestly. It's as if he genuinly means what he's saying, despite how ridiculous each word sounds coming out of his mouth.

"Does it look like I'm fucking crying?" I exclaim, now even more annoyed. Just who does this guy think he is?

He purses his lips and then shuffles his weight slightly. "No, no, man. That's not what I meant. Listen, do you ah... wanna talk or something?" 

"Talk?" I raise an eyebrow up at him. He nods.

"Yeah. Y'know that thing people do to communicate?" 

I don't find his joke funny.

"Why would I want to talk to you?" I grumble stubbornly, not feeling like a very sociable person at the moment.

Ten minutes later, I've made both of us coffee, and we're sat down on my couch. He doesn't seem bothered about the disgusting mess I call home, so I decide that he's okay. His name is Bob, which definatly seems to fit his appearence. I've always imagined Bob's to be the scary macho types.

"What are you doing in New York then?" I ask, eyebrows knotting together slightly. We had just been discussing my shitty job at the cartoon Network when he explained to me that he's from Chicago.

"Fuck knows. Road trip, I dunno. Just wanted to get the fuck away from that crap hole I call home,"


	5. I'M NOT OKAY. I PROMISE.

CHAPTER 4. I'M NOT OKAY (I PROMISE)

I'm in the middle of a wasteland, nothing but darkness surrounds me. Gasping for air, I struggle to move and I clutch at my chest. I can feel the burning in my heart. It's an unsatisfiable inferno that never ceases to engulf my whole body in flames that lick at my skin. It hurts, but no matter what I do, it's still there, slowly eating away at me.

I'm wincing in pain, but suddenly it begins to face. I can feel a cool ocean washing over me, and my vision begins to clear. Once I can move without bullets of pain rainsing down on me I'm left with one question. Where am I?

There are tall black buildings in the distance, silloutetted against the tainted orange sky. Castle turrets and the majesticly carved roof tops of the many towers stand out brilliantly from the contrasted color. I can only gasp in awe at the stunning sight, my breath certainly taken away. To my left, I can just make out the huge shadow of a bridge leading over a river, heading toward the cityscape I can see in the far background. The moon his collosal in size, and I feel as if I'm on a different planet just by gazing at it. Clouds float past, dark and gray in color. 

I'm on a road. The small patches of cobbled stone I can make out is gritted and worn out. The cracks tell a story of how many people have walked this path, but they also tell me of how long is has been left undisturbed. A thick coating of dust is caked over the whole road.

Music.

I can hear music. I have to strain, concentrating really hard, but amongst the lonely path ahead of me, it's there. I can hear it. The words, I can't understand. It's too quiet, too far in the distance for me to listen to. Over on the horizon, something begins to appear. I crane my neck, trying to get a better look at the mysery object, but it's moving. It's like a haze of black and white, and with every second that it grows nearer, the music becomes slightly louder.

Slowly, something begings to come into my view. I just stand there, staring at this shape, the music getting louder and louder.. 

People. They are people, and a.. a band are playing on a large black Float. I can't quite hear the music yet.. But it's beginning to get clearer. There's a man on the Float, at the front.. He must be the singer.. But it's too hard to see him clearly. 

I stare, waiting in suspense, Wanting to know who this man is.. Why they're parading through a wasteland...

"Sometimes I get the feeling.. She's watching over me. And other times I feel like I should go." Finally, The music is almost clear, and I can just make out the words

The voice.. His voice.. Is amazing

I can see this man now.. Behind him are some other men, All playing instrments. But the singer stands out from the rest. They're all wearng black jackets.. Almost like the ones the military would wear. His hair is blonde and short, And his eyes are covered in eyeliner. They Float carries on, moving towards me. Hundreds of people are walking beside them, all wearing the same scheme of clothes. 

"the Rise and fall, the bodies in the streets! And when we go, we want you all to know.. We'll carry on! We'll carry on..!" Just as the Float gets close enough for me to reach out and touch, Everything stops. Slowly, Blood begins to spread across the ground, causing small pools of crimson liquid. 

The amount of blood increases until it's up to my knees. 

I try to move my legs, to get on the Float where it should be safe, But my legs wont move. It's as though somethings holding me down, preventing me from moving. I watch silently as the blood reaches my chest.. then my neck.. Suddenly, The taste of blood is in my mouth and filling my lungs. the blood is up to my nose now.. And even though I'm drowning, there's no pain whatsoever... In fact, Everything seems to be calm..

My vision goes black.

I wake up in the same fucking room.

I wish I didn't have to wake up at all. Why couldn't I actually drown.. I'd finally be able to get away from him. 

I stare at the ceiling. What Am I going to do. I need to get out of here if It's the last thing I do. Slowly, I get up. My back really fucking hurts. I sigh deeply and force myself to walk to the door.. I don't even see why I try and open the door, t's obviously gonna be fucking closed.

I stare at the blade that I previously discarded on the floor... Maybe It wouldn't be so bad to use it... It's not like anyone is gonna fucking care. Nobody cares about Frank Iero.   
Just one cut..

I sit on the ground. slowly and reluctantly picking up the sharp, silver knife. I lift my finger to the tip and press it into the knife. Blood begins slowly dripping from the wound.   
The cut began stinging, but the pain wasn't a bad one.. It almost felt comforting and relaxing. 

I've made up my mind. 

I lift up my left arm, rolling up my sleeve and staring at my pale, unmarked skin. I rest the blade of the knife against my wrist, about half way up my arm.   
The knife suits my skin, in a sadistic, morbid way.. The glinting of the blade angainst my pale skin.. 

Slowly, I dig the the point of the knife into my skin, And pull the knife across my arm, slowly, pressing down hard. I stare at the cut, watching as the blood begins coming up in little pinpricks, Slowly dripping down my arm and onto the hard floor, forming tiny little dots of crimson.

The pain feels good. It's as though a heavy burden has been lifted off my shoulders. I smirk, watching the blood. One more wont hurt. 

I proceed as before, pressing down harder than last time, resulting in drawing more beautiful crimson blood. I sigh softly and pull my sleeve down, hiding the knife under my flat, dirty pillow. 

He must be out of the building.. otherwise he would have already smelt the blood.   
Actually. Forget it.  
I hear his foosteps. Slowly, they get louder. Then, the door is being opened and Bert is there. Pale as ever, And glaring at me.   
"It's Time" He states simply. Time for what? What the fuck is he talking about it?

"Time for fucking what?" I reply, staring at him

"For you to become one of us Frank. I'm fucking sick of you down here. I need a new human. You're a selfish little bastard. So it's time to get rid of you." He Replies, Staring at me. 

What. The Fuck. No. I'm not becoming a Fucking Vampire. I don't want to. I don't want to be one of them. They're fucking disgusting. I stare back at him, Terrified. 

"N- No." I whisper, widening my eyes. 

"Too bad." He narrows his eyes, and suddenly, He's next to me, grabbing my neck and sinking his fangs into my jugular. 

I gasp and struggle, my fist coming into contact with his body a few times. He takes it, doesn't even flinch. I don't want this to happen. Please tell me this isn't happening. Please, please let this be a dream.. 

I clench my eyes shut, But I can still feel his fangs in my throat, Injecting venom into my bloodstream...   
I feel the hot, wet tears as they run down my face. All of a sudden, Berts gone. And he's laughing. 

He has such a cruel laugh.

"You're pathetic, you know that, right? Don't worry, you wont feel any pain, you little pussy." He hisses, Grabbing my face. I'm still crying, tears falling from me eyes and hitting the ground. He has blood on his mouth. My blood. My smirks as he slowly leans in and kisses me. My eyes widen and I bite down on his lip. Hard. 

He just laughs. "Have fun out there." He smirks and Grabs my arm forcefully. I flinch, trying desperately to get away, but to no avail. He's a Vampire For Fucks sake. 

I give up.. He carries me out of the room, Then.. I hear something.. Cars. I haven't heard cars for so long... 

Suddenly, I make contact with the hard concrete ground and let out a yelp of Pain.   
"Goodbye Frank" I hear him say, Kicking my side , causing me to cough and curl up into a little ball. My eyes are clenched shut, Not wanting this to be real..

Sure, I'm glad that I'm out.. But, He.. He turned me. Well. I'm in the process of turning, But I don't want to be a fucking Vampire! 

I hear someone walk past and I be as quiet as possible.. I just want to disappear...


	6. A DRINK FOR THE HORROR THAT I'M IN

CHAPTER 5 A DRINK FOR THE HORROR THAT I'M IN

Bob and I ended up staying up all night. It turns out we have a fucking lot in common.  
For instance, He fucking loves Batman.

We had like.. a nerd fight. I won, Just to let you know. My knowledge is clearly superior to that of his own.  
Not that he wasn't good. Cause damn. It was hard to beat him, unlike most of the so called "Batman Fans"

Bobs from Chicago. He's 23 years old, and he turns 24 on 31st December. 1 year younger than me. His passion is playing drums, and He's saving up to buy a drum kit, Alos, he's been looking to start a band, but hasn't had any luck so far. He's a freaking awesome Guy. 

Ray come over at around 2am and Was kinda surprised to see Bob. Cause he looks fucking scary. I introuduced them, and They've been talking for hours. I'm kinda glad that I stole Bob's dog. He didn't seem to mind after I explained it all to him, In fact, he fucking laughed his head off. I was pretty sure he was gonna collapse and die. 

But luckily, that didn't happen.

"FUCK" I scream as someone opens my curtains. That was uncool. Nobody opens my curtains without my say so.

"Dude, are you okayy..?" I hear a familiar voice, and force myself to look up. Bobs there, staring at me. "What? oh..Uh, Yeah. I'm fine. What time is it?" I reply, Mentally forgiving him as he does not know me well enough not to open the curtains.

"Like 20 past 8. I made you some coffee By the way." My heart warmed up as me mentioned coffe, despite the fact that I had like 20 minutes to get ready and go to work. Why the fuck would they make me come in at 8:40 am. God. That's uncool. I might ask if I can come in at like 1pm. Also known as, the time I usually wake up.

I slowly get up and stretch. Fuck, I needed to do that. I must have gotten about 3 hours sleep.   
"Thanks man." I grin, and walk to the small, shitty Kitchen.. where I presume the coffee is.   
I stop in my tracks when I see Ray on the floor.. I turn to Bob, raising an eyebrow

"Uh..He got like really drunk..?" He offered, shrugging. I smiled and let out a chuckle.

I pick up the still hot coffee and take in the scent. Seriously, The scent of Coffee is fuckin g orgasmic.

I take a sip and practically melt. I love Bob Bryar, Seriously, he makes the best fucking coffee ever.  
I take a look at the clock on the microwave. 8:24 am. Ah shit.  
"Bob, I gotta get ready for work. Feel free to stay here with Ray today, Hopefully I'll see you around." I grin , Bro-fisting him and walking to my room.   
"Hahah, Thanks Gerard! Have fun at work dude." He replies, laughing.I turn around and stick my tongue out at him. 

He grins and pokes Ray's afro, Me smiling as I walk into my room. 

Clothes..Clothes, clothes clothes... 

I pick up a pair of Black jeans with a rip in the right knee and pull them on, managing to do so without and difficulties.   
Uh...A top.. I look around my small shitty room and find my misfits shirt on the mirror...   
I pull it on, somehow managing to get my arm in the hole for my head and my head in one of the holes for the arms. For Fucks sake. I take it off, and this time, put it on successfully. 

I go back to the mirror and sit down on the shitty wooden stool that really hurts your ass.  
Okay, I look awful. Like usual. 

My long black hair is really fucking greasy and I have big bags under my eyes.  
Okayy.. Time to make myself look acceptable.  
I quickly brush my hair, and then grab my eyeliner.  
I stare at the mirror, applying my eyeliner and making my eyes seem a lot darker and much better than usual. Ah, Job complete. 

I pull on my black, tattered converse and Walk out the door , saying bye to Bob, and a now very tired, very grouchy Ray. 

It's like 8:27 now. So I really need to fucking hurry up. Or my boss will generally rape me.

I start walking towards the trade center, It'll take like 10 minutes to hurry there.   
I look fowards, and begin practically power walking.

"Hey!" I hear a very unfriendly voice shout. I look up, Seeing no man. I turn my head to the left, and stop a man on the opposite side of the street. "What?" I shout back, slightly irritated.

"You Better stay on that side of the Street, motherfucker. I will Knock you Out!" He replies, glaring at me  
O..kay..

I carry on walking, deciding to just ignore the man and get to work. I really don't wanna lose this job.

Like a raging bat from hell (Which I presume is very fast) I make it to the trade center. Well, almost. 

Phew, I think I made it in time. I grin and carry on walking, slowing my pace , because now that I know I'm not late, I can relax. Without any warning whatsoever, a loud crash fills the air along with the screams of thousands of people.

What the Fuck is happening? 

I look up, My eyes widening in terror at the scene that lays before me.

A Plane.. Embedded in the Trade centre. There's smoke everywhere. I just stand there, Staring in shock.  
My ears are ringing and I must have fell to the floor. People are running, Screaming filling the world.

There's smoke in the sky.. So much smoke.

I just stare at the Bodies.

I can see the bodies falling from the sky. They're burning. Some of them are still moving. 

All of a sudden, there's a thud near me, and I manage to look to the left. There's a corpse.. a corpse of a woman.. Burnt and her eyes... They're.. They're so wide, as if they're terrified.

A scream of pain is heard behind me, and I slowly turn around, my body moving without my will. 

A child, no older than 14, Has a piece of debris stuck in their stomach. They're staring up at the building, blood slowly leaking from the wound. "H-Hel-" The boy chokes out, then collapses to the ground. 

Oh my god...

I want to help him..But I know that nobody can help him now...I turn to face the building, which is slowly collapsing. That's enough. I don't want to see anymore. 

My ears are still ringing, yet I can hear the screams and sobs of everyone.. I slowly get to my feet, covering my ears and clenching my eyes shut. 

I run, as fast as I can away from the building, falling down a few times. I can't believe it. Please tell me that did not just happen. please. I want to forget about it, but that would be impossible. I remember so cleary how the womans eyes look.. Her eyes wont get out of my fucking head.

I'm walking now, very slowly. Cars are going past, and police sirens are wailing. People are gathered around, Wondering what's happening. Someone says something about a terrorist attack. Someone else asks me if I'm okay. I just keep walking, ignoring everyone.

My path is blocked by a man who's getting down on one knee and prosposing to his girlfriend. I guess he's worried something like this will happen again. 

I carry on walking, Trying my hardest to ingore the commotion. Bob and Ray will probably be gone by now. Well, I hope they are. I don't want them to see me like this.

Once again, my path is blocked. This time not by a couple, But a small teenager. He's probably about 17, maybe 16, and he is curled up into a ball. I proceed to walk past him, but then I change my mind. I couldn't help anyone else.. But maybe I can help him.

"A-are you okay?" My voice is quiet, but I can tell he hears me because he tenses up. I reach out and tap his shoulder, but he flinches so I Drop my hand. "What do you want?" He whispers, glancing up at me with hazel eyes. His eyes seem puffy and are rimmed with red.. He's been crying...

" Do you need any help?" I ask, biting my lip.  
He pauses, and then slowly sits up, looking down at the ground. "uh.. I- I ..." He mumbles, then glances at me.   
I suddenly make a decision. This kid seemed lost, and might be homeless. His clothes looked as though he'd been wearing them for a while, and his hair was quite long. He was wearing some ripped skinny jeans, and he was extremely pale. Like unnaturally pale, damn, I was jealous. I'm gonna take him home.. See if he's okay, Ask him some stuff, if he's got a place to go, then I'll let him.. But otherwise, I feel as if I need to help this kid. 

" Uh... Come with me.. You can get some rest at mine.." I say, and start standing up. He suddenly widens his eyes and shakes his head.   
"I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise." I mumble, and he seems to relax.   
"O-okay..Do you have anything I can drink..?" He mumbles. poor kid. I think , trying to remember if I have a drink that I can give him... Shit.

"Uhm, I do at my apartment, It's only a block away." I tell him, and he gets up slowly, head cast down and he's avoiding my gaze.

I nod to myself and start walking, glanicing at him to make sure he's following me.   
We get to my apartment quickly, and I invite him to come sit on the couch. "Uh.. thanks" He says, Sitting on the couch, still looking at the floor. 

I head to the kitchen and I was right, Ray and Bob are gone, I quickly make two cups of coffee, and hope to God this kid likes coffee. Otherwise I would be highly offended.

I bring them into the main room, where the Kid is still sat, looking at the floor. 

"Do you like coffee?..." I ask timidly, And He widens his eyes, and Jumps up

"omg, omg, omg omfg. Coffee!" He smells it, and Takes a large sip. I smirk, Finally, someone who likes coffee as much as I do. It's kinda shocking to see this Kid excited, But fuck, Coffee is worth getting excited for.

I sip mine as I glance at him, wow, He seriously likes Coffee. I respect this kid.

Images of the burnt corpse keep coming back to me, haunting my thoughts... The way her eyes were so wide and terrified, the smell of the smoke..The thud when she landed next to me. The kid that was trying to ask for help... The bodies falling from the sky...

"Thanks..." I hear a quiet voice say. He's staring at me now, no longer glaring at the floor.  
"You're welcome. So.. what's your name?" I ask. I need a distraction. I need to stop thinking about it.

"My name? Uh.. I'm Frank.." He replies to me, Pausing for a second before he answers me. 

" Frank huh. I'm Gerard... So.. mind me asking what you were doing on the side of the path?" I ask slowly, Staring at him.

He looks up at me, as though he's shocked and shakes his head slowly. Nope? Oh. 

"Ah.. Okay." I reply, shrugging and sipping at my coffee.  
Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door.  
"Shit... Uh, Frank, Just go to my room and stay in there for a few minutes. You can..uh, take a shower if you want." I propose, leading him to my room. He nods and walks in. I quickly dart to the door and open it

"GEE! FUCK, YOU'RE OKAY." Ray practically screams, jumping on me. I stand there, not even hugging him back.  
"uhh..I'm fine Ray." I mumble, Staring at my hand rather than making eye contact with him.

"Good. I was so worried. We heard about it straight away, I thought you were in the building. I Though-"  
"Ray, It's okay. I wasn't that close when It happened." I lie, Images of everything that has happened flashing through my head.

"Thank God. Dude, I've gotta go for awhile, I'll be back later with Bob, okay?" He exclaims, grabbing my arms.   
"Yeah.. Okay."I mumble, and try to smile back at him.   
"Cya Gee!" Ray hugs me quickly then disappears. I stand there, staring. Eventually, I close the door and collapse onto the couch, trying not to cry.


	7. CHAPTER 7

Gerard ushered me into his bedroom... I went willingly, and then I heard someone else talking to him.. I shrug and sit on his bed, looking down at the covers. Batman huh. I sigh and roll up my sleeve. My cuts are still fresh and are stinging pretty badly.. The skin around them is red and there's dry blood smeared around the two cuts. 

I take a quick look around his room... I'm sure he wont mind if I borrow some of his clothes, I mean like, he already helped me...  
After a while of searching for a suitable jumper, I find an old black one with the batman logo on it. The fabric is soft and looks as though it'll be warm.   
After that, I search for some pants. All his jeans are too big for me, but I find some skinny jeans that should fit. 

I go to the door at the opposite side of the room and open it gently, peeking inside...

Sure enough, That's the bathroom. There's a small shower in the corner- The kind where there's a bath and a shower hanging over the top. It feels so weird to be able to move around..To see different things, other than that fucking room in which I was held captive in. 

I make my way towards the shower, turning the knob, and getting it at the perfect temperature for me. 

I undress lazily, Ubuttoning my jeans and pulling them off my legs, then slowly taking off my jumper. I discard the rest of my clothes, casually throwing them on the floor.

I lift up my right arm to look at the scarred skin from where he bit me hundreds of times.. Then, I look at my mostly smooth skin on my left. Once again I sigh.

I turn to the mirror, glanicing at myself. My hair is pretty long.. I really need that cut, and my ribs are very prominent along with my collarbone.

I brush aside my dark brown hair to look at the two small puncture wounds on my throat. They're mostly healed.. 

My skin is a lot paler than it usually is, and I'm usually fucking white. My eyes have darkened in colour, but only slightly... Shit, the transformation it very fast..

The urge to punch something - Especially Berts fucking face- overcomes me, but I push it away in thought that I'll scare Gerard and I really don't wanna mess up his wall.

I proceed to get in the shower, hissing slightly when the water hits my cuts. I stand there, letting the water clean my skin. 

I'm not sure what to think of Gerard. He seems nice, plus he has an awesome style. He hasn't tried to hurt me, in fact, he's done the opposite, what no one else would do. He helped me. He acted as though he actually cared. I want to stay with him.. I want to help him, because from one look in his eyes I know something bad has happened to him...

I regret cutting my wrist. Sure, It helped.. for like a few minutes, but after the adrenaline rush dissapated, it just left me with the stinging pain.

If Gerard will let me stay with him.. Then I will. And if not... Then fuck knows what'll happen to me.

I wonder what he's doing right now?....

I climb out of the shower and pull on the jeans. They're a big baggy, but fuck, They're comfy.  
The jumper is soo warm. Like seriously, an eskimo would be happy to wear this.

I glance at my reflection. My eyes are darker now. For fucks sake. 

I slowly open the door and walk out. I make my way to the living room, opening the door cautiously and peeking inside. Gerard is on the couch.. I can see his hair. 

I walk over to him, observing how he looks as though he's given up all hope. I take a deep breath and sit on the very edge of the couch. The movement startles him, and he tenses up then sits up and looks at me.  
"Oh..Uh.. Hey Frank. Those clothes suit you." He manages, not quite looking me in the eye. 

"I hope you don't mind me borrowing them.." I reply, Looking into his eyes. Hazel, like mine are. Or used to be.

"No.. It's fine dude." He tells me, managing a small smile. "Great. Uh.. I'll make you some Coffee. Do you want any suagr in it?" I ask, knowing that he likes Coffee, and fuck, I want some coffee.

His eyes seem to light up at the mention of me making him coffee. Actually, probably just the coffee part.   
"No.. No sugar, Thanks though." He manages to look at me, and smiles a really adorable half smile. 

I nod and get up. My eyes darting around the room until I spot the kitchen. I head towards it, stepping over a empty can of Beer. I flip the switch on the ketle, and jump when it starts boiling. Fuck, that's a weird noise. Then, I grab the jar of coffee, Get two cups and put a spoonful in each. I wait until the kettle has boiled, then I pour boiling hot water in each cup. I go over to the fridge and look inside, spoting an almost empty bottle of milk. I grab the milk and poor some into each cup, in turn using all the milk. Oops. I grab the spoon and stir the coffee, making sure there's no little floating black grounds.

Success. 

I carry them both to the little table infront of the couch, and set them down, managing not to spill a single drop. I grin at Gerard, Trying to make him feel just a bit better. He smirks and Sips at the coffee, practically melting into the couch. I gulp mine down, so glad to be drinking coffee for the second time in fuck knows how long.

"So...Who was at the door?" I ask slowly, Looking at Gerard. When he makes eye contact, I break it, hoping he doesn't notice how dark my eyes have gotten.

"That was Ray. He's awesome, I think you'd like him. Bob and Ray are both coming round later, so you can meet them. By the way, do you have a place to stay?..." He tells me, raising an eyebrow at the last question. 

"Great. Some human contact." I Grin and sip at my coffee. " A place to stay?" I bite my lip. Do I have a place to stay? My parents hate me, and I don't have anyone to stay with. Plus, I have no money whatsoever.

"Uhh..No. No, I don't." I continue gnawing at my lip. "Oh, that's cool. You can stay here if you want" He replies, and I look up to see him yawning and stretching. I smile slowly and widely. "Fuck, Thankyou dude." 

"What? No need to thank me." He insists. His eyes look distant, as if something is on his mind...

We sit in silence for a while, But not the awkward kind. 

"How old are you?" The random question is suddenly put into air. Uhh..  
Oh shit.

I have to think. Very hard. So.. It's 2001. Like the 9th of november. I think I'm ....19.? 

Yeah. 19. 

"I'm 19, and you?" I reply, not completely sure.

"I'm 24. " He tells me. I nod and take a look around the room. My eyes dart over something I recognise from years ago. Holy fuck.   
"Is that a guitar?!" I exclaim, jumping up and walking over to it. 

"Oh, Yeah. I can't really play it." Gerard laughs and walks over to it with me. 

I pause with my hand hovering over it. "Can I?..." I ask slowly, looking up at him. He smirks and nods, handing it to me. I try it out, and mentally wince at how out of tune it is. I mess with it, attempting to tune it and mostly succeeding. Then, I run my fingers along the fret board and experiment playing it.

This feels so right. My fingers know exactly where to go, And it makes a fucking beautiful sound. I glance at Gerard, who's eyes are wide and staring at me. 

"Dude, You're almost as good as Ray." He exclaims. "I am? I haven't played in years..." I say, sticking my tongue out at him. 

"Speaking of Ray.." There's a knock at the Door and Gerard chuckles. Well, at least he seems a bit better. I sit on the couch, still hugging the guitar. I watch curiously as Gerard opens the door. I see an afro. Just a big, brown afro. Dat's awesome. 

Gerard leads two men into the room. I'm not sure which one s Ray, but I presume it's the afro Guy.   
The Guy, Ray?, is quite tall. But I'm not sure if it's his afro that's making him tall or if he's actually tall. He's wearing a boring white top with some Boring dark blue jeans. 

The other guy, however, looks fucking awesome.

He has a lip ring, for fucks sake. A lip ring. I want a lip ring. He's wearing a leather jacket with some baggy blue jeans and converse.

Aanndd.... They're both staring at me. Especially the Afro guy.

Someone clears their throat, and I look up at Gerard. "Uhh.. Frank, This is Ray." He points to the afro dude. I guessed correctly. Then, he gestures to lip ring guy. "And this is Bob." Bob. hah. He kinda looks like a Bob. 

I grin. "Hey There. I'm Frank." 

"Uhh.. Ray, Frank is my friend. I'm helping him out. He's awesome at guitar By the way." Gerard tells him, and I smirk. 

Ray blinks and smiles at me. "Hey there Frank. Awesome to meet you. " He tells me, then Bob nods and says that I'm freakishly pale. 

I laugh through my teeth, remembering the ordeal I went through, and I cautiously cover my neck. 

"Guys..I'm not feeling very well... Play some video games or something, I might be back later." Gerard says, And starts towards his room. Ray and Bob complain for a few seconds, but then starts asking me loads of Questions. what games do i like, Do I read comics etc. And my favourite, from Bob, who asks me if I'm a Virgin.

I laugh and try to avoid that one.


	8. SINGING SONGS THAT MAKE YOU SLIT YOUR WRIST

I excuse myself, making up some shit about feeling sick... They'll be fine without me. Franks an interesting Kid, he'll keep them amused. I enter my bedroom and fall on my bed, my breath coming out in choked sobs. 

I bury my head under my pillow, letting out heartwrenching sobs of pain, fear and confusion. 

I just lie there. Numb and senseless while I listen to Frank, Bob and Ray all laughing in the other room. I wish I had something to laugh about right now. I slowly sit up and grab my sketchbook. Where the fuck is my pencil?

I search for it, looking under my covers and around my bed. I eventually find it under my bed, underneath an old shirt. It's still pretty sharp, which is good. I start sketching, needing to get the images on paper. 

A womans corpse, burnt and bleeding, her skin turned a dark colour, while her eyes are wide open and terrified.. The child with the debris is his stomach, hand outstreched and begging for help. The bodies falling from the sky...

Then, I decide to write something.

It suddenly came to me... Lyrics to a song.. Or maybe a short story or poem..

I steady the pencil in my now shaking hand and begin to write. Naturally making a few mistakes. 

You're not in This alone  
Let me break this Horrible Awkward silence  
Let me go,   
Go on record,  
Be the first to say you're I'm sorry,  
He Hear me out!   
And if you could would take me down  
Or would you lay me out  
And if the world needs something better  
Let's give them one more reason, now, now ,now...

We walk in single file  
We fight light our rails  
and punch our time  
Ride escalaters Escalators colder than a cell...

This broken city sky!   
Like butane on my skin  
Stolen from my eyes!   
Hello, angel, Tell me.. Where are you?!  
Tell me where we go from here!

I come to a stop.. thinking, trying to decide what should go next...Now I know how authors feel. I sigh heavily and drop the book, a few more tears dropping from my eyes. 

"Bo- Ow, Bob, You're hurting my Face!" I hear Frank laughing his head off along with Ray and Bob.

I wish I could force myself to go out there and have fun.. But I can't...  
Not yet...

I open the drawer next to my bed and pull out the bottle of whisky.. Just a few sips... to numb the pain, I tell myself. I slowly unsrew the lid then put my lips to the bottle, having a few sips and I feel the burning sensation climbing it's way down my throat. I sigh again and screw the lid back on. 

I grab my sharpener from my box of drawing shit and Stare at it, wondering how I should do this...  
I look for a screwdriver that I know I have, as I recently fixed my wardrobe with it. I find it on the very top of my wardrobe which I somehow reach and I fall back on my bed with it, Sharpener and screwdriver in my hand.

I lift the screwdriver to the screw holding the sharpener together,and begin unscrewing it. God, They make this too easy. I put the screwdriver down, and place the small screw in my little box. I take out the blade and stare at it. 

It's silver, with a small hole in the center. The edges look sharp. This sharpener is new and unused, so it's very clean and shiny. I contemplate what I'm about to do. 

"Ah...Fuck it." I whisper and pull up my left sleeve, looking at the very faint scars from years ago. I ready the blade against my smooth, pale skin and dig it into my flesh, relaxing at the sharp, intoxicating pain. I drag the blade across my skin, making a neat, smooth cut. Fuck, I'd forgotten how good it feels.

I repeat this process several times, watching in fascination as the blood wells up and small droplets land on my covers. I grab an old shirt and cover the cuts, soaking up the blood. I then proceed to cut once more... The blood is so beautiful. After that, I force myself to pull down my sleeves. I can still hear a lot of commotion from the living room, and decide to stay in here... I don't want to intrude on their fun. In fact, all I want to do is fade away and to never come back. This world is so cruel...

I find myself thinking about Frank.. He's so mysterious, and I Swear his eyes had gotten darker... But maybe I was just seeing things, or he might be one of those people whose eyes change color. That's megaly awesome. 

I want to know why he was lying on the side of the Path, crying...

I'm sure he'll tell me when he's ready. I mean, we all have secrets, right? I feel as though I need to be there for him. Maybe he got kicked out, Or he was abandoned. If it's any of them, then that sucks. 

Suddenly, I hear Billy Joe Armstrongs voice coming from nowhere.

Do you have the time,  
To listen to me whine?  
about nothing and everything all at once? 

I dig my phone out of my pocket and glance at the screen, Oh. It's Mikey. I take a deep breath and Answer it. 

"Hey bro." I Say casually, trying to hide the fact that I'd been crying.   
"Gee, ya gotta help me out, Seriously, Alicia found out about the money and she threw a total flip, she's threatening to like break up with me, and that would totally suck because I really really really do love her, But the bass was so fucking beautiful, I couldn't resist, dude, you need to help me!" He says so quickly I barely manage to keep up with him. Uh.. I blink a few times, thinking...

I end up chuckling. A morbid, sadistic chuckle that of a pyschopath would chuckle "Gee? I need your help. Seriously" I hear Mikey beg of me. 

"Well, That sucks for you bro." I say, still chuckling and hang up. I don't know what just overcame me, But fuck, It felt strange.

Mikey's gonna bitch at me for that later, but who cares. 

I get out the bottle of whisky and drink it, consuming at least half of the contents before The bottle drops to the floor, then there's complete silence as the glass shatters everywhere, hundreds of shards littering the floor. Then, I hear Ray state simply; 

"Fuck." 

Then I'm out of conciousness, drifting away into a dream filled with horror and Burning corpses.


End file.
